Fly on the Wall (9 page)

“Hell Naw, turn that eight track off,” the guy standing next to me yelled.

I spotted a feminine silhouette across the gym, rocking to Mr. Whitney Houston's song like it was a brand new cut. She was standing alone in the darkness on the side of the bleachers and probably had no clue that anyone could see her, but Ms. Patrick had all of my attention. Suddenly, I wanted the song to play all night.

The DJ must've seen her moving, too, because he followed up with Big Boi's “I Like the Way,” and he was right. I liked the way she moved. I was a big fan of the way she swung her hips with her hands in the air, until Mr. Bess walked over and started rocking with her. She stopped and stepped away from him. He took a step toward her and reached for her hand. She responded by putting a finger in his face. She said something to him then stepped back more, fading into an even darker shadow.

I was uncomfortable when he followed her into the dimness, and I made my way to the other side of the gym. I couldn't understand if I just wanted a closer look or if I wanted to do something about it, but before I could decide, she called out my name.

“Theo.”

I threw a surprised glance in her direction then pretended to veer from my beaten path and strolled over. Mr. Bess seemed irritated and stepped back.

“Hey, Ms. Patrick.”

She smiled at me. “What happened to you staying for detention today?”

“Oops.” I knew that I was supposed to stay, but because we would've had company, I left. “I'm sorry. I was so caught up on getting back here for the dance, it slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind?” she said. “Well, don't let it slip your mind on Monday.”

“I'll be there,” I said and then stood like a post between the two of them. I could tell that she didn't want me to go. Three minutes into the silence, he approached her from the other side, thinking that the music would mask what he had to say, but I heard every word.

“Can I call you tonight?” he said.

“There is absolutely no reason for that,” she said.

“I want to explain.”

“No need.”

He tried to explain anyway. “Everything wasn't like it seemed.”

“Oh,” she giggled angrily, “everything was just as it seemed.”

“Just give me another—”

“I'm not giving you shit,” she interrupted in a whisper. “Get the hell away from me.”

“Fine.” He paused a few seconds. “Have it your damn way.”

She murmured. “Fuck you, Doran.”

When he walked off, I was tempted to say something, ask a question, or just burst out laughing, but she was a grown-ass woman and I didn't want her cussing me out like she did him. I just continued to stand by her and bounced to the beat.

She sighed. “So, why aren't you out there shaking your stuff?”

“You want the truth?”

“I would hope that that's all you'd give me.”

“I really can't dance.” I was a little embarrassed.

She grinned. “You mean Mr. Basketball only has moves on the court?”

“I have moves off of the court, but they're just not on the dance floor.” I couldn't tell her exactly where I did my best work. “Plus, I was busy watching you.”

She blushed. “What?”

I bit my bottom lip. “I saw you over here breaking it down, until your boyfriend came over.”

She rolled her eyes and grimaced. “Please.”

“Please,” I said. “Y'all were cool the other day.”

“A lot has happened since the other day.”

“Word?” I teased. “So he ain't your boy anymore?”

She laughed. “Never was.”

“C'mon, the other day y'all were planning a date. What happened with that?”

She looked me square in the face. “Mind your business.”

“Aw, don't tell me that the man don't have no game,” I joked. “You want me to teach him some of my stuff?”

She laughed. “Your stuff?”

“That's right.”

“And what makes you so sure of your stuff?” she asked.

“It makes you smile.”

She smiled. “Maybe you have a
little
something.”

“It may be more than you can handle.”

After my comment, she took a deep breath. “So, what did I look like dancing?” She continued, “Was I not moving fast enough for you hiphopsters?”

“No, not at all.” I came at her with both of my guns blazing. “Fast isn't always better.”

She was surprised. “You're right.”

“You looked very sexy.” I sang, “I like the way you move, ta dan da.” By the time I realized that I was talking to my teacher, I opened my mouth to apologize, but she was blushing again. Women don't blush when they're offended.

“Thank you.” She continued with a statement that shocked me. “Had I realized that I had you for an audience, I might've done something more interesting.”

“Well, it's not too late.”

Instead of busting a move, she cleared her throat, looked in the direction of the crowd, and changed the subject. “I wasn't supposed to be here, but Mrs. Bailey asked me to monitor at the last minute.”

She was stunning; her smile, her hair, be it a weave or natural, was long, trimmed, flowing, and sexy. The hem of her skirt was hitting her knees while the top part clung to her butt.

“Are you at least having fun?” I asked.

“Not as much as you've probably been having.”

“I got here about forty-five minutes ago. I'm still trying to get into the swing of things.”

“I'm sure it won't take you too long. You're
the
guy to be around these parts.”

“I don't know about that.”

“Are you here alone?” she asked.

I joked. “Is that your way of asking me to dance?”

Her eyes widened and shifted like a shy girl. “No, I was just asking if your girlfriend was here.”

“Girlfriend?” The look I gave her was similar to the look one might receive after saying something bad about my mother. “Who said that I had one of those?”

“Well, you are Mr. Basketball.”

“Please don't call me that.” I hated when the school news referred to me as Mr. Basketball, Boy Wonder, or Basketballito.

“Isn't that what most people call you?”

“Yeah, but they're all in my outer circle. They're people that I don't care what they call me.” I moved closer to her. “I like for people that I'm intimate with—”

“Intimate?” She shot me a look.

“Intimate, as in part of in my inner circle. I like for those people to call me Theo, and if memory serves me correctly, I asked you to call me that once before.”

“Excuse me,” she said. “Is this an invitation to your inner circle?”

“No.” I wasn't shy. “This is an open invitation to be intimate with me.”

“Well,
Theo
,” she stressed my name, “is your girlfriend here tonight?”

“I just told you that I don't have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, right.” She blew my answer off. “I've seen you in the halls with that one chick a whole lot.”

“Have you been watching me?”

My boldness caught her off guard. “You're a trip.” She giggled.

“Why, because it's the truth?”

She looked at me like I had gone mad. “Why in God's name would I be watching
you
?” She laughed hysterically.

“Because desire is a window,” I reminded her of her words and then added, “and you like the view.”

She laughed. “Desire is a window and I'm closing the blinds.”

I was sick of getting mixed messages from her. “Are you playing a damn game with me?” I asked in an angry whisper.

“What?” My question stunned her.

“Sometimes you give off vibes like we're cool, and then the next minute you're dissin' me.”

“You're my favorite student. You know that,” she patronized me.

“I'm not talkin' about that.” I moved a little closer to her. “You know what I'm talkin' about.”

Her eyebrows flew up, just like I wanted them to. She didn't know what to say, but Alicia Keys went and said what was on my mind.
Baby, baby, baby, from the day I saw you, I really wanted to catch your eye. There's something special 'bout you . . .”

“Oh yeah.” Her fingers started snapping and her eyes closed like she would dance by herself. “I love this song.”

“Is that your way of asking me to dance?”

She smiled. “I can't dance with you.”

“Why, because I'm not Mr. Bess?”

“No, because you're Theo Lakewood, who just so happens to be my student.” She smiled. “Plus, you said that you don't know how to dance.”

“I don't dance to the fast stuff.” I stepped so close to her that her breasts raked across my lower arm when she turned my way. “When it comes to taking my time, doing things slow, and doing them right, I'm your man.” She was speechless. I offered her my hand and was shocked when her fingertips touched mine. “Would you like to dance?” I asked her.

She grinned and took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Cool.”

I made a step toward the crowded dance floor with her in tow, but after just two steps she pulled me back. “I can't go out there,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I'm supposed to be a chaperone, not your dance partner.” She looked down and tried to slide her trembling hand out of mine, but I didn't let go. “The other teachers would have a fit.”

“Why are you teasing me?” I asked.

“I'm not.” She looked up to me with sincerity. “I really wish that I could.”

“How bad?” I asked.

She replied timidly. “Real bad.”

“All right, come on.” I tightened my grasp on her hand and led her toward the wall and then underneath the electric bleachers.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting out of sight.” It was the perfect hiding place; we were all alone. “Let's see if you're a woman of your word.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as I pulled her deeper into the darkness and then finally toward me.

“You know what I mean.” I could only see traces of her face. “Dance with me.” I didn't have to say it twice. For the first time, she didn't question what I had to say. She obeyed me, her arms wrapped around me, and her head fell to my chest like we had been down this road before. My fingers slid down her back and then up again. I squeezed her gently a few times in order for me to believe that I was actually holding her like I was.

Even if she had never hinted at being interested, I would've known the truth because her body told me. She melted into me like she was waiting on the chance to be close to me. For that moment, we met one another's needs. She was like nothing or no one that I had ever touched. I softly ran my hands through her hair. She gave off a fragrance so sweet that I wanted to taste her. She was warm, smooth, and though almost undetectable, she was trembling. She could never convince me that she felt nothing.

Just when I thought things couldn't get better, they didn't. Everything was everything until the DJ fucked it up by playing Avant.
I know you wanna rub. I know you wanna touch. I know you wanna feel.
The words were blatantly what we both felt and it scared her. She became cautious of the impression that she was giving me, and she let go of my hand.

“Thanks for dancing,” she said.

“Whoa, where are you going?” I asked. “We're not done.”

“I need to get back to my post before one of the other teachers comes looking for me.”

“C'mon, just one more song?” I tried to convince her.

“I really can't.” She firmed up. “See you on Monday.” She walked toward the opening and didn't look back.

I stood in the darkness for a few minutes trying to figure out whether I made a move on her or a fool out of myself. When I emerged from the bleachers, she wasn't there and I was glad. I walked across the gym.

“Dance with me?” I heard someone ask from behind. I spun around and saw Trese. “It's the least you can do.” Trese was looking scrumptious in a low-cut shirt and tight jeans.

“Sure.” I was bent on keeping her happy to avoid her threatening to tell my mother again.

“Thanks.” She stepped closer.

A slow song was playing, and when I reached down toward her waist, my hands kept going until they were squeezing her ass. “Damn,” I said to myself. I had been missing certain things about her, all sexual, and judging by the look she was giving me, she was thinking the same thing.

“It's Friday, right?” Trese asked.

“Yeah.”

“Isn't your mom working late?” She wasn't wasting any time.

“Yep.”

“Can I come over?” She ground her pelvis lustfully into me.

Over the past three days, I concocted a plan that would either rid me of Trese totally or leave me stuck with her forever. My scheme was fresh on my mind, but our body movements were making it hard to follow through.

“Come over for what?”

“For this . . .” Right there on the crowded dance floor, Trese moved her hands down my chest, unzipped my pants, fumbled into my boxers, and began stroking me. “I want this.”

I felt myself expanding with every stroke of her tiny, warm hand. The harder I got, the less dancing I could do. Before long, I was standing still with my eyes closed, biting my top lip. “Shit,” I mumbled, and by the end of the song, I was searching the crowd to tell Will that I was leaving. However, I learned from other friends that he left with Jessica and had been looking for me before he left.